


dust off my clumsy words [and bad pickup lines]

by pagan_mint



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Gen, Happy pride month, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Innuendo, but can he save himself, candy floss, exos eat ramen and crush hard, from FEELINGS????, the answer is no, three times fic, useless gay exo saves the galaxy from various threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan_mint/pseuds/pagan_mint
Summary: Local Exo Makes A Damn Fool Out Of Himself Tripping Over Attractive Co-worker, More At 11





	dust off my clumsy words [and bad pickup lines]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lialle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lialle/gifts).



> playing Des[2]ny with friends means you automatically enter into a contract shipping your Guardians sorry I don't make the rules except I do
> 
> anyway I used Lialle's Hunter to do a character study of my Warlock whoops sorry (I'm not sorry)
> 
> title lyrics from "Uh Oh" by Junior Doctor!

The first time Acheron saw the Warlock, he thought it was amusing that they were both wearing similar shaders on their armor. The blue and pink caught his eye, and he spent a moment admiring it, since it was difficult to do so with his own armor without standing in front of a mirror all day.

Then the Warlock turned to look at him, and Acheron ducked his head immediately; the stranger was wearing one of Brother Vance’s, uh, more  _ unique _ pieces of armor, a helmet adorned with the motif of a giant eye. Acheron knew it wasn’t a  _ real _ eye, he  _ knew _ that, but somehow it still felt like its piercing gaze had bored directly into him, catching him staring.

Whatever, he thought, jogging off to turn in a pile of weapon shards to Banshee. There were a lot of weirdoes in the Tower.

* * *

The second time Acheron saw the Warlock, he was agonizing over the results of a series of his own bad decisions. Mars seemed to cultivate those.

_ Why? _ Pen asked from the comparative safety of his backpack.  _ Why did you waste your Shadowshot like that, when you knew they were going to summon an Ogre - _

“I didn’t know!” Acheron blurted, jumping out of the path of said Ogre’s laser beam. “Or I forgot, or - whatever, shut up, I’m trying not to die!”

_ Like it’s so much work for me to bring you back. _

“It still HURTS,” Acheron yelled, dodging around a hunk of ice disingenuous to the orange desert landscape. This proved to be a mistake; the Ogre was smarter than it looked, and Acheron backpedaled in a panic as he came face-to-face with a horrible faceful of burning eyes.

“Help,” he squeaked, and then yelled it. “ _ HELP!” _

_ No one’s around, _ Pen said stiffly. It liked to act bored and annoyed, but he could tell it was genuinely concerned for his well-being at this point.  _ This is what you get for trying a Heroic strike at your Light level, without a fireteam - _

A crack of thunder consumed its words, and the sun was abruptly blotted out by a mass of roiling blue-black clouds. Acheron twitched as electric sparks and static began sizzling across his metal casing.

“Huh,” he started - and then the Warlock from the Tower descended from the sky, white lightning cascading from their fingers as they burned the Ogre into ash.

From where they had been hovering several feet above the ground, the Warlock settled gently back down onto the Martian soil, their boots tamping down red earth and flaking black coals. For a long moment, neither of them said anything; Acheron stared into the helmet’s eye. Through the eye, the Warlock stared back.

“I helped,” they said suddenly.

The sun returned slowly, the clouds overhead shredding away into scraps of cotton fluff. Acheron blinked and realized that he hadn’t responded.

“Oh! You did. Yeah. Thanks.”

The Warlock stretched their hands out in front of them, then curled one into a loose fist and cracked its knuckles. Not an Exo, then.

“Ugh,” they said, voice muffled by their helmet. “That always does a number on my extremities. I’m going to be staticy for hours.”

“ _ All _ of your extremities?” Acheron asked before he could stop himself. The Warlock’s attention had drifted away from him; now it snapped back, the full force of the Eye’s gaze boring into his body.

_ Traveler above, _ Pen groaned.  _ I can’t take you anywhere. _

Before the Hunter could find out what it was like to die from embarrassment, Ana Bray’s voice crackled over the universal radio connection. “Hey guys, we’ve got a problem. The Hive are moving on one of Rasputin’s subservers, and I don’t want their grubby little bug paws anywhere near him. Can you keep them off while I set up a forcefield for it?”

There was a distant explosion, and Acheron wheeled to look in its direction.

“Uh, yeah, be right there,” he crackled into his mic. Heroic strike, right, that’s what he’d been doing. His eyes lit up a shade brighter as he remembered his savior. “Hey, want to help me - ”

_ They’re gone _ , Pen said as he finished turning around to find no one there.  _ Guess they didn’t wanna hang around. _

“Wow,” Acheron murmured vaguely. Pen materialized in front of him.

“Hey,” it said sharply, voice louder outside of the internal armor connection. “I know that tone of voice. Cut it out. We’re in the middle of a strike.”

“Yeah,” Acheron mumbled, summoning his Sparrow. “Strike. Got it.”

“Traveler,” Pen said irritably. “You haven’t even seen their face. What if they’re ugly?”

“There are no ugly Guardians,” Acheron retorted. “Hey, where am I going? Give me a waypoint!”

Pen vanished.  _ Okay, settle down, bossy. Here you go.  _

* * *

The third time Acheron saw the Warlock was in the Tower again. He had just finished scrapping a bunch of old armor and weapons, equipping his best gear, and choosing an immaculate combination of matching shaders to create his newest outfit. He looked very fresh; he felt very fresh.

And then that freshness immediately went stale when a figure in a familiar helmet swept past him, wearing elegant Warlock robes in the exact same colors.

“Hey!” Hunters weren’t known for their tact, or thinking things through, so Acheron had the Warlock’s sleeve in his hand before he realized what he was doing. “What’s your deal? I keep seeing you everywhere, copying my outfits and doing flashy stuff. You trying to out-cool me or wh… what…?”

He trailed off weakly. When he’d yanked on the Warlock’s sleeve, the stranger had apparently been in the middle of removing his helmet, because by the time they turned around it was gone and Acheron was face-to-face with the most beautiful male Awoken he’d ever encountered.

“Aw, hey,” the Warlock said, and smiled. When he did it, he tilted his head to one side and closed his eyes, and it made him look absolutely angelic. “I’ve seen you around. Funny how we keep matching, huh? I guess there’s not a new batch of shaders out yet.”

Acheron was dying. This was what dying felt like.

_ You’re not dying, _ Pen told him irritably.  _ You just have a crush. Because you’re useless. He’s pretty. So what? You’re pretty too. _

“Not like this,” Acheron mumbled, out loud, accidentally. He didn’t mind being an Exo, but he’d always been envious of Awoken bone structure, and this man’s was agonizing. If Acheron had skin, he could have cut it on the Warlock’s cheekbones. He wanted to trace a constellation between the symmetrical dots layered across that perfectly structured bridge of a nose. The shade and texture of his hair reminded Acheron of the cotton-candy clouds on Venus, the way they swirled across the sky between the stars, mixed up with the vivid aurora -

“I know,” the Warlock said, responding to what Acheron didn't realize he'd said. “This shader is really nice. But Tess slipped me word that Fenchurch might be sending her a new batch soon, so if I can find some Bright Dust under a rock somewhere, maybe I can afford a pack of them.”

His voice was lovely. Acheron didn’t want him to stop talking.

“Uh,” he said. “I’m Acheron.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” Acheron prompted after a pause. The Awoken smiled again, and it was just as charming as the first time.

“No,” he said - and then transmatted in front of Acheron’s eyes, before the Exo had realized his Ghost was out.

“Wow,” Acheron said. It was getting to be his favorite word.

_ Don’t you dare _ , Pen snapped.  _ Don’t you DARE get another useless crush - _

“ _Wow_ ,” Acheron sighed dreamily, and his Ghost gave up.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! like comment and subscribe for fics similar to this one <3


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